


the prayer of going nowhere

by notyouranswer (gorgeouschaos)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dean Winchester Goes to Stanford with Sam Winchester, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27141215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gorgeouschaos/pseuds/notyouranswer
Summary: And it’s like a magnet, see? Like opposing poles or whatever. Sam and John fight like Hell and between them is Dean, torn between two people he’s never known how to walk away from.(In the end, though, one pull is stronger. Dean pulls out of the parking lot in a spray of gravel beneath the Impala’s tires, his clothes and weapons and copy of Slaughterhouse Five in the trunk. His whole life is right where it belongs-- in the passenger’s seat right next to him.Dean’s true north, his lodestone, his whatever you want to call it--It was always going to be Sam.)
Relationships: Dean Winchester & John Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 48





	the prayer of going nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> Let's just ignore the WIPs I already have...  
> For once I actually know where this is going, more or less, so I should have an update within a week or so.  
> Title from a poem by Richard Siken.  
> Thanks for reading, hope you like it, and I love hearing from y'all!

And it’s like a magnet, see? Like opposing poles or whatever. Sam and John fight like Hell and between them is Dean, torn between two people he’s never known how to walk away from.

(In the end, though, one pull is stronger. Dean pulls out of the parking lot in a spray of gravel beneath the Impala’s tires, his clothes and weapons and copy of  _ Slaughterhouse Five _ in the trunk. His whole life is right where it belongs-- in the passenger’s seat right next to him. 

Dean’s true north, his lodestone, his whatever you want to call it--

It was always going to be Sam.)

The apartment they rent is nice, because Sam doesn’t say anything when Dean suggests a cheaper place but Dean can read the resignation in his brother’s eyes and it hurts. The deposit wipes out most of Dean’s carefully scrimped and skimmed and stolen savings, but it’s worth it for the look of soft awe on Sam’s face when he sees that there are two bedrooms.

Sam goes to school and gets straight A’s; Dean gets a job at a mechanic’s and comes home with grease under his fingernails and it’s not-- not perfect, not by a long shot, not without John, but it might just be something close to good. 

The salt lines go down every night, and Dean sleeps with a knife under his pillow (and a gin in his top drawer, and another one is stashed in the toilet tank, and another one is under the kitchen sink, and there’s another knife taped to the bottom of the kitchen table and holy water in his flask and there’s--)

Dean’s not giving up on everything that’s kept him and Sam alive this long, is the point. But the life-or-death of it is a little lessened every day they both come home safe.

Jess comes along halfway through sophomore year.

Dean sees the look in Sam’s eyes and knows his brother’s gone. 

Dean’s not jealous. Not of either of them. Not of Sam for finding a beautiful, intelligent woman with a spine of steel when Dean can’t even spend the night with someone without them asking one too many questions; not of Jess for taking up a part of Sam’s life when Dean’s used to being Sam’s whole world. 

He’s not.

(And it’s like planets, see? Like gravitational pulls or whatever. Dean’s spent his whole life orbiting Sam and their father, and without John, Dean’s whole universe is Sam. And Dean had kind of assumed-- hoped-- Sam’s whole universe would stay Dean.

Jess is another moon or something, pulling Sam just a little away from Dean, pulling Sam’s attention towards her all the time.

Dean gives up on the metaphor at that point. He’d liked astronomy, but he’d ditched it for a week to help John research and never really got caught up. )

He can’t resent Jess, not after he meets this girl Sam’s been talking about for months and the first words out of her mouth are, “That beauty of a car is really yours?”

John would scare her away. 

Dean swallows down the taste of smoke and flashes his conman’s smile, says, “Yep. Hey Sam, this beauty of a woman really yours?”

“More like I’m hers,” Sam calls back from the kitchen, and that’s that. 

Jess makes Sam happy, and she’s good for him, so Dean adjusts to Jess being a part of their lives. 

She adjusts to the two of them, too. To their conversations conducted entirely through minute shifts in facial expressions, to the salt lines Sam doesn’t even bitch about anymore, to the scars Dean gradually becomes less careful about covering up. 

Jess would, Dean thinks, be a good hunter. She’s adaptable and doesn’t ask questions.

The last time the three of them go to a bar together in Palo Alto, it’s with a group of Sam’s friends. The girls flirt with him and the guys ignore him, which is just fine with Dean. He’s only there because Sam’s a lightweight and they both know it. 

It goes well, at first. Dean’s got his eye on a college girl with the reddest hair he’s ever seen, and she’s got his eye on him too; a few of Sam’s friends are into Westerns and rock music; he’s got just enough booze in his system to feel pleasantly buzzed (even if he’s drunk half the group under the table, he can tell himself they’re just lightweights).

Jess’ voice, raised and sharp, pulls Dean’s attention away from Sam’s friend’s Wes’ story about attending a Pearl Jam concert.

“I said no,” Dean hears Jess say, and he’s on his feet and cutting through the crowds with the easy, instinctual grace John had beaten into him. 

“Come on, honey,” the boy she’s talking to says. He has a hand on Jess’ arm. Dean sizes him up in a glance-- frat boy, here because of Daddy’s money, on something stronger than booze-- and wonders where the hell Sam is. 

It doesn’t matter. Jess is part of his universe too, now, and besides-- Dean’s never known how to walk away from a fight. 

“Back off,” Dean says, his face stretched into a smile that feels as sharp as Sam’s told him it looks. 

“Fuck off,” the frat boy suggests. He looks like a Kyle, Dean decides. 

Dean grabs the thumb of the hand on Jess’ arm and pulls down. Kyle yelps and lets go as his wrist is forced to twist. Dean gently pulls Jess behind him, putting himself between her and the threat. 

“Walk away, man,” Dean warns. He can tell the guy isn’t going to, but Kyle has no idea what he’s dealing with. “Last chance.”

The frat boy has friends heading towards him. They look almost identical. 

Dean feels his smile widen to the point of pain. 

“Go find Sam, Jess.”

“But--”

“Go on,” Dean drawls. He puts all his good-ol’-boy drawl into it, knows it’ll piss off the frat boys even more to get their ass kicked by a hick. “I’ve got this.”

He tracks her heels clicking against the floor as she hurries towards the bathrooms. 

“Now, then.” Dean cracks his neck, tilting it from side to side. “Who wants to end up in the hospital first?”

In the end, he doesn’t put any of them in the hospital, just makes sure they all throw the first punch and he breaks a few noses, bruises a few jaws. 

It feels good, letting out some of the restless anger that’s always roiling beneath his skin. 

It feels like something that’s been missing has clicked into place. 

If that makes Dean nauseous, he can blame it on the booze and the one punch to the stomach he didn’t dodge.

Somehow, Dean dodges all of the questions about how he learned to fight. He bullshits his way through with vague “our dad was in the military” and “grew up rough”. 

Jess and the rest of Sam’s friends are still curious, of course, but the edge in Dean’s voice forestalls further interrogation. 

Sam gives him crap about losing his touch on the walk back to the apartment, after they’ve walked everyone back to their dorm and the “holy shits” have faded. Dean laughs but, privately, agrees-- he should have dodged that shot to the ribs. 

That night, while Sam sleeps off his beer, Dean borrows his brother's laptop and searches "freaky accidents".

He finds a string of missing men not far away. Instinctively, Dean turns to ask John about it. 

His chest tightens. 

Sam snorts and smacks his lips, pulling Dean from his reverie. Dean smiles despite himself. 

Every time he remembers it hurts all over again. ‘Cause leaving dad-- it’s like losing a limb, see? It’s like reaching for his knife and coming up empty. It’s like having the Impala’s engine die on him. It’s everything Dean’s world depends on crumbling.

But Dean made his choice. He doesn’t regret it.

Dean was always going to choose Sam. Even if it meant half his world was gone. 

He stares at Sam’s laptop screen and wonders if Sam will see it that way when Dean goes hunting again. 

John calls for the first time in four years at 2:30 that morning. 


End file.
